Chapter 1 — Shadows of the Past
Olivia
The wind howled through the Novikov estate that afternoon, rattling the windows and carrying with it the bitter chill of November. But it wasn’t the cold that froze Olivia in place. It was the screams—sharp, piercing, and unforgettable—that echoed in her ears as she stood frozen in the doorway of the family’s grand dining room. Her small, trembling hands clutched the frame of the door, her knuckles white with the strain of holding herself upright.
“Why didn’t you stop him?” her mother’s voice lashed out, sharp as the crack of a whip.
Olivia was seven years old, too young to fully grasp the gravity of what had just happened, but old enough to feel the weight of her mother’s words. Dmitri, her older brother and the only source of warmth in their cold household, was gone. His laughter, once so bright and boundless, now echoed only in memory.
The estate’s pond had never seemed particularly dangerous before, its dark waters still and unassuming. But its icy depths had claimed Dmitri, and now her father’s fury roared louder than the storm outside.
“Useless girl,” he spat, his face mottled with rage. “You shouldn’t have been born. Dmitri would still be alive if…”
His words blurred, the edges of the dining room dimming in Olivia’s vision. Her breath hitched as the room tilted, the gilded mirrors and polished wood walls warping around her. She couldn’t feel her fingers anymore, her small fists clenching at her sides. She wanted to disappear, to shrink into nothingness and escape the weight of their hatred.
Her father’s grip on her arm had been bruising as he dragged her to her room that evening. The sting of the belt that followed burned into her memory as a visceral reminder of her failure. The cold of the water as Dmitri’s lifeless body had been pulled from the pond seeped into her bones and stayed there, no matter how many years passed.
She had learned to be invisible after that. To drift through the halls like a ghost—unnoticed and silent. It was the only way to survive.
---
The clink of fine glassware jolted Olivia back to the present. The sound reverberated through the grand dining room, its false elegance a sharp contrast to the dread pooling in her stomach. Her gray eyes flicked toward the glittering chandelier above, its brilliance mocking her with its perfection. She sat at the far end of the long mahogany table, her posture stiff, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her fingers brushed the cool silver of the locket at her throat, Dmitri’s face etched into its tiny photo. The memory of his warm smile flickered briefly before vanishing into the shadows of her mind.
“Why the sudden formality?” Anastasia’s voice broke the uneasy silence, light and saccharine, laced with the kind of confidence only she could muster. Her blonde curls shimmered under the chandelier’s glow, and her blue eyes sparkled with a smugness that threatened to suffocate Olivia.
Olivia’s stomach churned. Their father leaned back in his chair, his imposing frame casting a shadow over the table. The air felt heavier in his presence, each word he spoke weighted with authority and menace.
“We’ve come to a decision regarding your futures,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.
Olivia’s heart tightened, a vise of fear clutching her chest. She didn’t need to look at her mother to feel the customary disapproval radiating from her.
“A decision about what?” Olivia asked tentatively, her voice soft, barely audible.
Anastasia’s lips curved into a knowing smirk, her fingers delicately tracing the stem of her wineglass. “Oh, Olivia.” She sighed, her tone dripping with condescension. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? Father’s been discussing marriage prospects. Surely you remember Connor Agosti?”
The name sent a jolt through Olivia’s chest. Connor Agosti—the enigmatic and ruthless heir to the Italian mafia. She had seen him only once, years ago at a gathering, but the memory was as sharp as glass. His piercing blue eyes had scanned the room with predatory precision, his presence a force that made even her father tread carefully.
“Of course, Anastasia,” their father said with a small, sharp laugh. “And yes, Connor Agosti’s proposal is why we’re here tonight.”
Olivia’s gaze fell to the table, her breath catching. It had to be Anastasia. Anastasia, the golden child, groomed for these moments. She was everything Olivia wasn’t—confident, calculating, and endlessly adored by their parents.
Anastasia leaned forward, her smile widening. “I knew it. It’s only natural he would choose me. Who else would be suitable for someone of his stature?”
Their mother nodded in agreement, her own smile tinged with pride. “You’ve always been our pride, Anastasia. This match will secure our family’s standing for years to come.”
Olivia’s fingers tightened around her locket, the metal cool against her skin as her heart sank further. Even now, Dmitri felt like the only person who had ever truly seen her. She wished for his presence, his strength, but all she had was the cold, hollow weight of the locket against her chest.
The dining room door creaked open, and Olivia’s breath stilled. Every head turned as Connor Agosti entered, his presence commanding the room without effort.
He was even more imposing than Olivia remembered. His tailored suit fit him like a second skin, the faint glint of a gold signet ring catching the light as he crossed the threshold. His chiseled features were shadowed by a hint of stubble, and those piercing blue eyes swept the room with a clinical precision that made Olivia’s pulse quicken.
“Mr. Agosti,” their father said, rising from his seat with a practiced smile. “We are honored by your visit.”
Connor nodded, his expression unreadable. His gaze flicked to Anastasia, lingering just long enough for her smile to blossom into something radiant, before shifting to Olivia.
His eyes locked with hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Olivia felt the weight of his scrutiny, her heartbeat loud in her ears. She wanted to look away, but his gaze held her captive, as though peeling back the layers of her soul.
“I’ve made my decision,” Connor said, his voice a low, commanding rumble that sent a shiver down Olivia’s spine.
Anastasia straightened in her seat, her smile triumphant. “Of course, Mr. Agosti. I’m—”
“Olivia.”
The single word dropped like a bomb, shattering the fragile air in the room.
Anastasia froze, her mouth half-open in disbelief. Their father’s smile faltered, and their mother’s expression hardened into something cold and unreadable.
Olivia blinked, her lips parting as the weight of his declaration settled over her. “Why?” she whispered, the word trembling on her breath.
Connor’s gaze didn’t waver. “My decisions are deliberate,” he said, his tone sharp, final. “Olivia has qualities I value.”
Anastasia shot to her feet, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “This is absurd!” she exclaimed, her voice rising. “Olivia is—she’s—”
“Enough,” their father snapped, his voice cutting through her protests like a whip.
Connor’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile as he turned his attention back to Olivia. “You’ll find that I don’t explain myself,” he said, his words measured, deliberate. “You’ll adapt.”
Olivia’s pulse roared in her ears as he stepped toward her, extending a hand. She hesitated, her fingers trembling as they met his. His grip was strong, unyielding, and she felt the weight of her life shifting irrevocably.
As Anastasia’s glare burned into her and her parents exchanged stunned, disbelieving glances, Olivia realized two things: her life as she knew it was over, and whatever awaited her in Connor Agosti’s world would demand a strength she didn’t yet know she had.
